


play to the rhythm of my heart

by gsdlover16s



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Drumline AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gsdlover16s/pseuds/gsdlover16s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drumline AU. Artemis Crock does not like the way her sticks hit against the drumhead of her new snare. She does not like the way the color guard instructor seems to have picked her to be the student he takes under his wing. She does not like the way her former drum captain, Cameron, is trying to convince her to botch the band’s last competition. And, most of all, she does not like Wally West.</p>
            </blockquote>





	play to the rhythm of my heart

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on ao3 and I am clutching my head in confusion. I don't understand the tags??/? But all things come in time, I guess. But anyway, I've already posted two chapters of this on ff.net, and now I'm putting them here. This was mainly inspired by band camp, which actually happened over two months ago, but details aren't that important. So, yeah? Enjoy, I guess?

The letter sweeps into the Crock household with vengeance, its full wrath not revealed until it lands itself into the recipient’s hands, much to Artemis’s expedient chagrin, because the moment she sees those four words written in elegant font in the top left corner, her stomach flips and her hands scramble into motion, tearing at the envelope until she has a hole that is just big enough to jerk the crisp, white paper through.

'Congratulations!'is the first thing she sees, which does nothing to ease her worries.

Cautiously, grey eyes narrowed in concentration, she reads on, raising a single finger to silence the many questions her mother is tossing her way. Her stomach feels like it is on a trapeze as she glances over the red and blue crest of the prestigious Happy Harbor High School, which, to her, just looked like a fancy ‘S’. She skips directly to the body of the letter and almost topples over when she reads the first sentence. 

_Dear Artemis Crock,_

_It is our pleasure to inform you that your transfer to Happy Harbor High School has been accepted and you are scheduled to attend this school year!_

_"No. Fucking. Way."_ Artemis’s voice comes out barely above a whisper and in her state of stiff-backed shock, she can see her mom wheeling towards her. Paula doubles over and snatches up the demolished envelope that Artemis had carelessly tossed to the floor only moments before, and the pure joy that radiates from her face immediately puts Artemis on edge. Surely, her mom isn’t thinking…

"Artemis? Why do you have a letter from Happy Harbor?Artemis!" The urgent, yet sickeninglyhappy, tone finally breaks Artemis out of her trance and she hurriedly turns to the paper still clenched in her hands, eyes dashing back and forth along each line. The paragraph is short, which the teen is thankful for because she wants to knowwhat the hell is going onand she wants to know now.

_Dear Artemis Crock,_

_It is our pleasure to inform you that your transfer to Happy Harbor HIgh School has been accepted and you are scheduled to attend this school year! Open house is on Thursday, August 19, and classes begin on Wednesday, August 25. Your schedule is included within the envelope and we look forward to having you join us this year! Go Bumblebees!_

The overuse of explanation points makes Artemis want to puke because how can they be so damn cheerful when they obviously made a huge mistake? She certainly never applied for a transfer and her mom would have told her if she had, so somewhere, there is probably another, much more nerdy, Artemis Crock sitting beside the mailbox, waiting for the very letter that Artemis holds in her hands. 

Artemis decides that she should find the right address and send it because the other Artemis Crock - who is definitely a brunette because two blonde Artemis Crocks would just be creepy - will probably be dying to know whether or not her transfer was accepted. 

A feathery touch upon her wrist pulls Artemis out of her musings and she looks down to see the curious gaze of her mother, whose thin fingers are still clutching that wrinkled piece of paper like it’s her lifeline. “Artemis? What does it _say?”_

Swallowing down her dread and the knot in her throat, Artemis drops both hands to her side and says with much more assurance than is currently in her body right now, “It’s nothing, Mom. They just made some mistake and think I’m leaving Gotham North for their school. No big deal.”

Paula’s eyes nearly double in size, and the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth deepen as she smiles, an action that Artemis would normally copy for no reason whatsoever. This time she doesn’t though, instead choosing to take a tentative half step back. “Mom… You aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking, right?” A disgruntled expression settles on her face as her mom wheels forward and her letter-free hand is suddenly being grasped in a strong and steady grip.

"Oh, Artemis! That is _wonderful_ news! The teachers are so much more experienced and the students are supposed to be the best there-“

"Wait a second," Artemis cuts in. "You’re…actually making me go?" She knows deep down that, somewhere, that nerdy, brunette Artemis Crock doesn’t exist, so there’s no point bringing that up in an argument, but that doesn’t mean she has to go.

"Why of course!" The opportunity is-"

"Stupid! I don’t want to go to Happy Harbor!” Artemis is fully aware that she sounds like a spoiled brat and that she shouldn’t have pulled away from her mom’s hand so harshly, but she can’t find it in herself to care because of the terror racing throughout her veins like ice. “Mom, this is the year we finally have a chance to win our competitions! Cam needs me!” 

"Drumline is just a _hobby_ , Artemis,” Paula rebukes, fist slamming down on the armrests of her wheelchair, and Artemis chokes on her own spit because her mother should know it’s so much more than that, to her, at least. “There is a band at this school, and the education they can offer you is so much better than Gotham North’s! They are giving you a chance to better your life instead of just banging sticks around for scholarships! If you won’t do it for me, then at least do it for yourself!” Her fists clank against the black plastic of her chair again, but noticeably harder, and Artemis momentarily forgets how her mom just insulted her drumming because, oh no, her mom is actually _crying_. Her mom, who is here, caring for her, while her dad has been who-knows-where for the past two years.

Dropping down to one knee, she extends a single, callused hand to cover the top of Paula’s own. “I - okay, Mom. I’ll go. I’ll go to Happy Harbor. I'll go for you." Artemis’s throat catches and she has to bite her lip to keep from shouting out a denial of her former statement. 

Large, watery eyes rise up to look at Artemis and the edges of her lips tug upward just barely. Two seconds pass before Paula’s upper body lunges forward and her skinny arms wrap around Artemis’s neck in an incredibly tight hold. 

The touch is comforting and Artemis’s chin comes to rest on the top of her mom’s shoulder, arms snaking around her sides. Her eyes close, teeth digging harder into her lip because otherwise she might lose her composure and that is not listed in Artemis’s to-do list at the moment.

Finally, Artemis feels her mom slowly pull away, still keeping a hold of her hand as she stands. Shaky grins are exchanged and suddenly Artemis needs to get out of that room. The expectations shoving her around are almost overwhelming and both her fingers and her mouth are itching to move.

Almost breathlessly, Artemis mumbles, “I better go call Cam. Let him know,” and waves around the paper that hasn’t been released from her thumb and forefinger since she first laid eyes on it. Paula nods, squeezing her daughter’s hand one last time before Artemis stands and rushes out of the room. She needs to talk to someone who actually understands and Cameron sounds like the perfect fit.

Artemis leaves the room so suddenly, she doesn’t notice the tear that drops onto the ripped envelope her mom is still fingering or the relieved smile smeared across her face.


End file.
